They proceeded south for a while, the weather growing increasingly drier as they traveled, until before long they could not tell that it had ever rained. It was not long, however, before, in the shallow of a ravine, they found the fresh skeleton of a sheep, and markings which, before the rain, might have been tracks, leading off down the ravine.
They followed them, and before very long, the ravine deepens and the walls steepen until they are in a narrow canyon bordered by almost vertical walls 25 feet high. They round a bend and see a man dressed in robes, wearing a mask, with the hood of his cape pulled up, obscuring everything but his eyes. He is looking at them while he waves his hands in the air. As they watch, a black, shimmery hole in reality opens next to him and demons begin to pour out.
The parties attack each other, and before it closes, three demons have wriggled out of the hole into another plane. The man was clearly waiting for him, says that “they” said the adventurers would arrive, and that he will now prove himself worthy. Maybe he did, or maybe he didn’t, but either way, the adventurers killed him in short order.
Not so, however, with the demons, who kept flitting around everywhere, before, behind, beside the adventurers, inflicting horrible black damage with nearly every blow. More than one of the party fell unconscious, dying, only to be raised again by the magic or the potions of some other member of the party. There were moments when the adventurers wondered if they would survive the onslaught of these demonic forces, but, in the end, they prevailed, due in no small part to their willingness to use their camels as shields. In the effort, one of the camels was killed.
No great loss, though, because it was discovered that the strange masked man had tethered his own camel a short distance down the canyon, so it replaced the camel who had given its own life in salvation of the adventurers.
A search of the bodies revealed little, save some strange bracers in the man’s backpack and an unusual gold coin: one bearing the man’s likeness on both sides – a unique two-headed coin.
The adventurers were feeling the effects of this battle with the demons and their summoner, so they decided to rest, even though it was only about noon. They camped in a small bend in the canyon, obscured at least from the view of those who might be on the higher ground above, and at least partially hidden if anyone happened down the canyon itself. Setting watches, they settled down to let their bodies repair and remained until dawn the next morning.
It was a strange landscape in Dracmead, the land ruled by goblins. Endymion had always had the explorer's heart. His trek had taken him from the forests of the wild elves in his home kingdom of Dorland across the realm of Lightholm and into the wastes of Dracmead. It was not anything like he expected.
ReplyDeleteThe wastes had none of the familiar trees he was used to, and it was very barren of life. His senses felt raw from the lack of the ever-present background orchestra of leaves rustling in the wind, squirrels leaping from branch to branch chattering madly, a distant brook cavorting across a rocky streambed, birds crying out to each other, and the occasional sound of a lumbering beast deep in the wood. Here it was utterly silent but for the occasional gust of wind whistling through the rocky gorges. There were no leaves underfoot, no shade from the midday sun, and precious little water. He and his elven companion Milo had agreed to briefly scout the edge of the Dracmead, both to satisfy his curiosity and to return some service to the Earl who was his host.
After following a riverbed south through a rocky canyon, they took shelter from an unexpected storm. On the next morning, they spotted a group of vultures circling the sky around a distant point. Urging their mounts forward (camels! what strange beasts), they came upon a scene of bloody destruction. The bodies of falling goblin warriors, one of the many such patrols the two of them had skirted past, lay bloody and strewn about on the ground. In the middle of this carnage were resting a human sellsword and a black-skinned elf, who Milo quickly identified to him as a drow and seemed very excited to meet.
"But the stories, aren't they evil?" Endymion asked off to the side, but Milo was already striding forward in greeting. Milo was a political rebel, after all. The two groups faced each other with cautious and mutual suspicion. The black one encouraged the human to talk, and after a brief awkwardness it was learned they were in the service of the Earl to the north and had ventured south to find some strange lizard-like creatures that were pilfering farmer's sheep.
Endymion supposed the earl had a good reason to employ such into Dracmead - it couldn't be that he had much concern for their safety, but they were definitely competent warriors as evidenced by the bodies littered about. He decided that it would be okay to venture with them for a little bit and see the veracity of their claims. Just because they were mercenary didn't mean there wouldn't be a use for them.
They ventured deeper into the gorge, which turned into a proper canyon. After traveling in silence for a few hours, they came across a strange occult figure who shouted out some nonsense and then proceeded to summon a vast host of devils and demons to attack them!
So this is what Dracmead is like. Goblins and lizard creatures and devils. Not for the faint of heart. Indeed, their two new friends attacked the summoner without hesitation, as the drow explained that he'd 'dealt' with their sort before. Commanding surprising magics and skill with the bow, the drow slayed many of the demons while the sellsword plunged into the midst of them without an ounce of fear.
To be continued ....